


A Warm Welcome Home

by thirstworldproblemss



Series: A Warm Welcome Home [1]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Domestic Fluff, Edging, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kid Fic, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, just a hint of f masturbation, loving smut, no y/n, tit fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirstworldproblemss/pseuds/thirstworldproblemss
Summary: Marcus is back after being away for a couple weeks while working a hard case.  His wife (& toddler) welcome him home.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader, Marcus Pike/You
Series: A Warm Welcome Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216133
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Here we have desperate Marcus, but also fluff and smidge of baby/kid!fic? (Domestic fluff with the kidlet _and_ more desperate Marcus in ch 2)

The morning sun is just peeking through the curtains when you wake up, and you blink lazily at the glowing spots and shadows it casts on your end table, feeling warm and safe.

Marcus is home. He’s curled around you as you lay on your side, a solid line of heat against your back. Your head is pillowed on one of his arms, the other wrapped around you, his big hand tucked up against the underside of your breast, and you can feel his breaths puffing out warm and even against the back of your neck where his face is tucked into you. You feel surrounded by him, protected, _loved_.

 _This man… this beloved man._ You’re so glad he’s finally home.

You feel so warm and cozy that you’re almost tempted to let your residual drowsiness lull you back to sleep so you can catch as many z’s as possible before the baby wakes up. Almost tempted, except that there’s a certain _interesting_ pressure against your backside that’s drawing your attention.

You shift and stretch in Marcus’s arms, pressing your hips back and rubbing against his erection. The feel of him against you makes a gentle warmth build in your stomach, and you like the way he sighs in his sleep so you do it again. Then again. Happy anticipation flutters in your stomach and climbs your throat to steal your breath.

You start to roll your hips in earnest and the heat increases, spreading outward through your body. Marcus’s cock flexes against your ass, and his breath comes out in a little huff each time, but he stays stubbornly asleep.

_We’ll see about that!_

You roll over and scoot down so that you can bury your face in Marcus’s neck and breath in the familiar scent of him. Sliding a hand down his side, you’re surprised to discover that he’s still wearing his suit pants. He didn’t even take off his belt! He must have really been exhausted last night.

He _did_ take off his shirt, you notice, admiring the way his chest looks in just the white sleeveless undershirt, _aaand_ —you run your foot down along the front of his shin to discover bare feet—his shoes and socks too. 

You wonder how late he got in last night.

As the leader of the task force dealing with international art theft, Marcus is usually busy, but this last case has been particularly rough. Marcus had been in and out of town—possibly even the country, you weren’t sure—working ridiculous hours tracking a ring of particularly clever art thieves. You’d been left home with the baby—well, at almost two years old, she’s really more of a toddler, but you and Marcus hadn’t ever gotten out of the habit of calling her a baby.

The two of you had only seen Marcus a handful of times in the past couple weeks, probably only an hour or two total. You weren’t sure where he’d been sleeping, if he’d slept much at all, but it wasn’t at home with you, and while you know that Marcus can take care of himself, that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. …or missing him.

When his text came in last night during dinner, you’d been over the moon to hear that they’d caught the bad guys, and he’d be home “ _as soon as we wrap things up. Why don’t you get the bed warmed up for me, sweetheart? ; ) Love you._ ” 

Your excitement over the news had buoyed you though the small challenges of getting a cranky toddler bathed and into bed—hopefully the last time you’d have to do it without Marcus for a while. Once your littlest love was asleep, you’d stolen one of Marcus’s work shirts, buttoning it just far enough to cover your breasts, then headed to bed to wait for him.

At first you’d tried to arrange yourself seductively, wanting to look good for Marcus when he came home, but as the minutes of waiting ticked over into hours, you eventually tucked yourself into bed to read on your phone. It was after midnight when you finally fell asleep, still waiting for him.

That left—you check the clock—not a lot of hours for Marcus to have gotten a decent night’s sleep. You pull back a little to examine his face in the early morning light, wondering if you ought to leave him be.

You take in his familiar features, and your heart clenches as you realize Marcus does look a little more tired than usual, but still just as handsome as ever. You free a hand so you can run one finger over his dark eyebrows and down the proud arch of his nose. He’s starting to get a bit scruffy, and the patchy stubble tickles your palm as you cup his jaw and drag the pad of your thumb over those pouty lips. It’s a good look for him.

A _really_ good look.

 _This man… this beautiful man._ _Oh,_ how you’ve missed him.

He can sleep later, you decide, reaching for his belt. You’ll make time for Marcus to nap later today if he needs it, but right now _you_ need _him_.

You get his pants undone and slip your hand inside to cup him through the soft fabric of his boxer-briefs. His cock feels hot and it hardens further under your touch. Your stomach clenches with need, and you slide your whole hand gently down the fabric covered length of him. You like the way his cock jumps, pressing into your palm, so you do it again. Then again.

Marcus groans in his sleep, and his breathing picks up, faster and deeper than before. The hard planes of his chest press against your breasts with each inhale, and your nipples draw tight, little sparks zinging under your skin. You press even closer to him and can’t help but squeeze your thighs together.

 _This man!_ He’s driving you crazy, and he’s not even _awake_ yet. You narrow your eyes, pressing harder against his cock on the next pass, and Marcus’s whole body jolts then goes still. It’s a safe bet that he just woke up, but you ignore him and keep rubbing and pressing and teasing.

Marcus’s arms tighten around you, but he doesn’t say anything, so neither do you. You just keep rubbing his cock and pressing your breasts against his chest, until he’s panting above you, and you have to bite your lip against the heat streaking through your body. 

His hips are hitching forward into your hand now, legs twitching restlessly. Your hand is sticky from his precum and it drags against his underwear on each stroke. You’re so turned on you can hardly stand it, every pulse of his cock making your body clench in sympathetic pleasure.

Suddenly, Marcus groans low in his throat. His hips stutter forward, thrusting hard once, then twice, before his arm snaps down to grab your wrist, stilling the motion of your hand against him. You’re not ready to be done teasing him yet, so you move your fingers instead, petting them against his cock.

“ _Wait—_ ” he groans again, and pulls your hand entirely away from him.

“Wait, please, sweetheart,” he pants, and his voice is low and raw in a way that _does things_ to you. “It’s been— it’s been a long couple of weeks. If you’re not careful, this is going to be over before it starts.”

“So I’ll be careful,” you tell his collarbone, placing a gentle kiss there. “I promise.”

You wait, heart pounding, to see if he’ll let you keep teasing him.

Marcus likes to focus on you during sex, kissing and licking and teasing until you’re a dripping mess. He’ll often make you come, sometimes multiple times, before he even takes his pants off. You have no complaints— _of course not!_ —but it’s rare that you get to focus on _his_ pleasure. Rarer still that you get this close to making him lose control, and you’re not ready for it to be over yet.

“I want to keep making you feel good, Marcus,” you tug gently at his grip on your wrist, “please?”

“You always make me feel good, sweetheart,” he says, but he releases your wrist and rolls onto his back, granting you permission and better access all in one. Then he flashes you that sunshine smile, “Do your worst.”

 _This man… this wonderful,_ cooperative _man._ He is _so good_ to you.

You quickly tuck yourself under his arm, laying your head on this chest where his heartbeat pounds frantically under your ear. A spike of happiness and love for Marcus makes you squeeze him in a quick grateful hug, then you pull the covers down far enough that you can see what you’re doing, ready to get back to the matter at hand.

As promised, you approach cautiously, drawing a single finger gently down the full length of his still-covered cock. He groans, and you watch, mesmerized, as it jumps under your touch and the dark wet spot spreads across the fabric of his boxer-briefs—black today, you notice. You make gentle circles over his hard cock with your fingers, then press just a bit harder, enjoying the gasp that rips from him and the way he tenses under your hands.

 _Oh, he’s so beautiful like this!_ You feel hot and nearly incoherent with want. You think you’re turning yourself on nearly as much as you are him, and it’s _so good_.

You press your trembling thighs together, and use trembling fingers to keep torturing you both until he’s panting and thrusting up into your hand. He’s moving around so much that you have to prop yourself up on your elbow to avoid being bucked off, but you don’t mind. It gives you the perfect view of his long, strong body spread out under you, completely at your mercy.

Through the fog of your own arousal, you try to pay attention to Marcus’s breathing, to the noises he’s making, to the way his body grows more and more tense, muscle pulling and flexing under you. And then, when he’s gasping for breath, twisting and writhing under your hands; when you’re sure he’s right there on the edge of coming… You stop.

You pull your hand completely away from him and watch as his cock bobs and jumps under the sticky mess of his underwear. You listen to him groan and gasp over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You feel the way his body rolls and twitches and finally settles against yours. And then?

Then you slide your hand into his underwear and do it. All. Over. Again. 

The second time it’s harder to make yourself stop before he comes. You can’t bear to back off completely, so this time, you build him up and keep him there, alternating between firm pressure and soft teasing touches to keep him right on the edge of coming. You hold him there, force him to ride that edge until he’s desperate, writhing and bucking under your hands, breath sawing in and out of his lungs. And. Then. You. _Stop_.

Marcus groans and his whole body shudders, and for a second you think you’ve left it too late, but he forces his body still. You want to keep touching him, feel addicted to it, but you’re not sure either of you would survive a third round right now, so you keep your hands to yourself and lay your trembling, panting, overheated body down beside Marcus’s.

You’ve never been more turned on in your _life_. Hands and stomach shaky, so wet you can feel it running down the curve of your ass onto the bed. You’re trying to give Marcus the space you know he needs to get himself under control again, but it’s hard, so hard to just lay there staring at the ceiling, achingly aware of his body at your side.

Several long moments later, Marcus seems to master himself, and he rolls towards you again, rising onto his elbow above you and blowing out a long breath.

“Well, good morning, sweetheart.” He grins down at you. His voice is low and heavy with thwarted arousal, but teasing. It makes you shiver, even as you giggle at him.

 _This man… this ridiculous man._ He always keeps you smiling

“Good morning, yourself.”

You’re both still smiling as he lowers his mouth to yours.

The first press of his lips is gentle, but you open your mouth to his, and the kiss turns heated. His arms go around you, one hand on your ass, kneading at you though the tails of his shirt, holding you steady so he can press his hips against yours. The fire in your stomach is back, blazing out of control. The hard line of his cock feels good against your aching core, but you need more, so you hook your leg over his hip, pulling him in to grind harder against your soaked folds.

A particularly well angled thrust has you gasping into his mouth, and you break off the kiss to pant up at him. You feel hot all over, completely overwhelmed with want, and Marcus doesn’t look much better. Suddenly you absolutely cannot wait a single second more to have his cock in you.

“I want you inside me. Now. _Please_ , Marcus.” 

“ _Jesus._ ” Marcus’s cock twitches against you. “Yeah, baby? Okay,” he says, unhooking your leg from around his waist and pulling away.

“Marcus,” you whine. _Why is he going away when you want him closer?_

“Give me a sec,” he says, rising to kneel on the bed between your legs. 

He pauses there looking down at you, and you stare helplessly back, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

The expression on his face is almost pained: pupils blown so wide his eyes look nearly black as they rake over you, color riding high on his cheeks, and mouth barely hanging open as his breath rasps in and out.

You follow the delicious line of his neck down to his wide shoulders and the white sleeveless undershirt that clings to his upper body, showing off the defined muscles of his arms and a sliver of tummy peeking out where it’s rucked up at the bottom. His dress pants are splayed open and just barely clinging to his hips, revealing the damp fabric of his boxer-briefs clinging to the outline of his hard cock.

Something about that wet patch on his underwear, knowing that you caused it, knowing that part of it’s from you, your own juices mixing with the precum from his leaking cock? It makes you feel absolutely wild.

“Hey look,” Marcus rasps out, smirking down at you as he leans over to finger the collar of the stolen dress shirt you’re wearing, “between the two of us we’re wearing a complete outfit.” 

You struggle to make sense of what he’s saying, and his finger traces the open edge of the shirt down to where it’s buttoned over your breasts. Your nipples pebble at the nearness of his touch, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags the edge of the shirt lower so he can pluck at one tight bud.

“I love the way you look in my clothes, sweetheart,” His voice is dark and low, and does absolutely nothing to help clear your head.

“I— ” You struggle to come up with a response, pretty sure you’ve forgotten how words work at this point. “I know you do. Why don’t you come fuck me in them, already?

Marcus huffs out noise that’s half laugh and half groan, “Alright. Alright already. Geez, were you always this pushy?” He rises to his knees again, sliding his pants and underwear down his thighs, then stands and let them fall to the floor. His hard cock bobs free, and you lick your lips as you admire the slick shine on the tip.

“Only when my husband is taking a ridiculously long time to fuck me,” you shoot back, making grabby hands at him. This whole morning has been one long, ridiculously hot tease after another, and you want him inside you _yesterday_.

“Coming, coming,” Marcus drops down onto one elbow, hovering above you, but he resists your efforts to pull him down on top of you. He slides his other hand up the outside of your thigh under the hem of his shirt, “Don’t you need to take off—”

You snicker as he breaks off, having discovered your bare hip and complete lack of underwear. 

“Nope, guess not,” he rasps, his eyes wide, all hint of teasing gone from his voice.

He trails a hand across the front of your hip and down between your thighs, and you both gasp when his fingers meet your wet heat.

“So wet for me. _Fuck_ , sweetheart,” he groans. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, _which is not where you want it!_

“Marcus…” you begin warningly, but then words abandon you as he slips one finger down over your clit and just barely inside you.

The penetration is electric. Your whole body clenches. Your hips lurch upward, chasing his hand, desperate to get him— _any_ part of him—further inside you. Luckily he seems to be on the same page, sliding that first thick finger further into you, then adding a second and scissoring them to stretch you gently. He curls them upwards to rub against that spot that always makes you see stars, and you gasp and arch, squeezing down on his fingers.

“Marcus,” you’re pleading with him now, clutching at his forearm, unsure if you’re trying to pull him further in, or push him away so you can get at his cock instead.

“Love the way you say my name, sweetheart,” he says, voice ragged, and you make a frantic noise of negation when his fingers pull out before trailing back up to press against your clit. 

“Mar-cus, _please!_ ” you sob, clutching at his shoulders and back, hips hitching up into the fingers circling your clit.

 _This man… this deliciously talented man. Oh fuck_ , this man is going to kill you.

“I want— I w-want—” you have to really concentrate to get the words out between electric bursts of pleasure, “I want to come on your cock.”

“You will…,” he promises, but makes no move to come closer. Doesn’t stop rubbing his finger over your clit. The moment stretches out and the pleasure builds and builds inside of you. If he doesn’t stop, you’re going to… _going to…_ ”

“…Next time.” Marcus finishes, just as the wave of pleasure breaks over you, and you wail out his name, clawing at his back and arm as you shake and shiver your way through it.

 _Oh, that was just unfair_ , and you try to rally yourself to tell him so, but he’s already moving. Looming even further over you to finally, _finally_ position his cock at your entrance and push inside.

 _And fuck,_ it’s so _much_.

Maybe it’s because it’s been a couple of weeks, or maybe it’s because you’re so sensitized right after coming, but your cunt immediately clamps down around his cock, not giving an inch. Your breath leaves you in a high, soft whine.

“ _Fuck._ ” Marcus growls, “So fucking _tight_. You okay, sweetheart?”

Somehow you manage to nod, and you wrap your legs around his hips, trying to pull him into you.

Marcus obligingly presses forward, but slowly. Pushing through your body’s resistance _so fucking slowly_.

You claw at his back, trying to force him to move faster, but Marcus just keeps inching forwards at the same torturously slow pace, making you twitch and writhe against him. You swear you can feel every fucking bump and ridge and vein on his cock as it slides into you. The agony of pleasure goes on and on and you can’t stop yourself from curling into him, pressing your face into the strong muscle of his shoulder.

Finally, _finally_ he’s fully seated inside you. It takes a minute—or maybe five, _what is time anyway?_ —for your brain to overcome the overwhelming feeling of fullness and realize that the sounds Marcus is making are words.

“—’M sorry, sweetheart. _Fuck._ You’re— _unh_ —so fucking _tight_. Feel so good,” Marcus is saying when you finally tune back in. His voice is low and raw, and you can tell he’s struggling to get the words out. You wonder what he’s apologizing for. You want to reassure him that there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with what he’s doing to you right now, but you can’t seem to find your voice.

“Sorry,” he says again, and your ability to concentrate deteriorating further as he starts moving, pulling out and the sliding back into you just as fucking slowly, torturing you all over again. “I w— wanted to be inside you that f-first time too— _ngh_.” He sets a slow rolling rhythm, and you struggle to follow what he’s saying over the pleasure that’s building inside you again. “ _Jesus._ Two whole weeks since I’ve been inside your ti— _fuck_ — _tight_ little pussy. Wasn’t sure I’d last. Had to make you come first. “

You realize incredulously that he’s apologizing for making you come before starting to fuck you. And isn’t that just so typically Marcus?

 _This man… This wonderful, considerate man._ He’s so fucking thoughtful it’s ridiculous.

He’s so sweet, so selfless. He’s… still talking, actually, though you’re pretty sure your brain’s not processing all of it anymore.

“—so f-fucking t— _ight_ … …beautiful when you… …pussy _squeezing_ me so go-ood…” 

He is… He is… _Oh! He is about to make you come again._

And then he does.

You come hard on his cock, spiraling tension spiking suddenly then releasing, carrying you away to a place that’s all heat and light and pleasure, Marcus’s rough voice in your ear and his hard cock rocking into you the only things anchoring you to your body.

You come back to yourself slowly, feeling tingly and somewhat disconnected from reality.

Marcus is laying on you, no longer moving, just pressing down into you as you shudder and twitch around him in the aftermath of that epic orgasm. The weight of him helps ground you, and after a moment you relax, feeling deliciously lazy and well fucked. Once your body stills, he lifts himself up, then continues to retreat, pulling all the way out of you.

 _Wait, what?_ You make a noise that’s half protest, half inquiry. You’re pretty sure you were the only one who just came, so where’s he going?

“Just— _ngh_ —just humor me for a minute, please, sweetheart?” His voice is barely there, scraping the bottom of his register, “Here. Roll over, please. Like this, baby.”

You follow his directions bemusedly, moving with his guiding hands until you’re on your side again, facing away from him.

“You were sleeping— just like this when I came home last night.” He spoons in behind you, the long line of him pressing hot against your back, then pauses, “This okay, sweetheart?”

You nod and hum an affirmative. _So okay._

“You were asleep,” Marcus continues, and you let him pull your hips back against him. “Kept shifting around. Rubbing this gorgeous ass on me in your sleep.” He guides his cock between your thighs, and you both groan at the feel of it sliding along your wet folds.

“Thought I would go crazy.” He pulls back, and you tilt your pelvis so that when he presses forward again, he enters you in one long aching slide. The groan he makes sounds like it’s torn from the very bottom of his soul, and he snakes a hand down to put pressure on your clit. You’re the one going crazy now.

“I d-dreamed about fucking you like this… all— _fuck_ —all night long. I wanted to come in you _just like this_. And now? _Now I’m going to._ ”

 _Oh, god._ “Marcus, _please,_ ” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for anymore. You’re desperate for him to keep fucking you, for him to make you come on his cock, for him to come inside you. You’re just desperate for _him._ Always.

“Gonna— _ngh_ — gonna fill you up, baby.” He grits out through clenched teeth, and you can tell he’s close. You are too.

“Gonna… fill you up… so good. Just,” He punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips, “Like. This.” 

His thrusts speed up, and you cling to him, both of you fast approaching release.

 _This man… this fucking amazing man…_ He’s going to make you come again.

Suddenly there’s a soft thump over the monitor, and you both freeze. Your eyes fly to clock in horror as you realize that— _Yep, right on time._

“Mama?” A little voice comes over the monitor calling, “Maaaaama! I up, Mama. I up!”

Marcus presses his forehead against your shoulder and groans long and low and frustrated into your skin. Your body twitches in response, clenching around his cock, and you both gasp. He squeezes you tight for a moment, panting, and you wonder what you’ll do if he doesn’t let go. _Do you even want him to let go?_ But then he presses a quick, hard kiss to your shoulder and pulls out, rolling away from you. The sudden emptiness drags a wounded noise from your throat.

You prop yourself up in the bed, and reach over to turn on the screen on the monitor with a shaky hand. The picture shows your little love standing at the edge of the crib, holding onto the rail and bouncing as she continues to call for you.

You sigh. _Time to get up._

Once you’re on your feet, you turn to look down at Marcus. He’s laying on his back with the sheet pulled up to his waist, making an almost comically large tent over his still-twitching hard-on. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed, as he takes deep, deliberate breaths.

Your heart goes out to him. You’re feeling pretty frustrated right now, and you already came this morning— _twice!_ It must be ten times worse for him.

“I’ll get her,” you tell him and lean down to give his foot a comforting pat. You can’t help but giggle a little when his cock jumps noticeably at your touch. “You look like you could use a minute to calm down.”

Marcus groans again ruefully, opening one eye to squint at you. 

“Yeah. A minute would be good.” He blows out a measured breath. “Thanks, babe.” A few seconds later he adds, “Okay if I take a quick shower before breakfast?”

“Of course!” you reassure him, dropping a quick kiss on his lips before heading to the closet, “but don’t take too long. The baby will be so excited to see you, and you know she likes your pancake animals better than mine!”

“Pancakes, huh? I’ll be quick. Thank you, sweetheart,” You turn to see Marcus sitting on the far side of the bed, and stop to watch as he pulls off his undershirt.

All that beautiful skin on display makes your mouth go dry, and you can’t help but admire the way the muscles of his back and butt shift under the skin as he shuffles off to the bathroom.

_This man… This gorgeous man…_

You sigh again. This gorgeous man is not the only one disappointed by the interruption of your cockblocking toddler.

And speaking of your little love, her voice over the monitor is starting to sound less cheerful and more forlorn, so you quickly grab a clean pair of underwear and pull them on under Marcus’s rumpled button-down. It’s definitely time to get in there and start the day. 

No rest for the wicked, you suppose… or the innocent for that matter, at least not until naptime.

 _Hmmm… Naptime!_ Now there’s an idea.

Suddenly feeling much more cheerful, you smile to yourself as you hurry down the hall to your daughter’s room, thinking about all the things you want to do to Marcus once naptime arrives.

—

Marcus stands in the bathroom, trying to pretend to be calmer than he feels, but he can’t pretend away the trembling of his muscles or the way it feels like his whole body is throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He had been so close— _so fucking close_ —to coming in your hot, wet cunt. He glares down at his still-twitching cock. He’s still so fucking close. _Jesus._

He turns on the shower. Tries to calm down while he waits for the water to heat up. He thinks about jerking off—he’s so fucking worked up that it would probably only take two or three strokes to get him there—but he’s been doing without you for a couple of weeks. He wants… well, he’s not exactly sure _what_ he wants right now, except to be back in bed with your beautiful body wrapped around him, but he’s _damn well going to_ wait until he can come with you.

So rather than wrapping a hand around his aching cock, Marcus steps into the shower and tries not to think about it anymore. 

He washes his hair and body quickly, then twitches and curses his way through cleaning his stubborn dick. He keeps his touch light—he _has to_. He’s already overstimulated to the point that it’s almost painful and still so fucking worked up that he’s afraid anything more will push him over the edge despite himself.

It’s torture, trying not to think about how you teased him this morning, how fucking perfect you felt, how beautifully you came for him. His cock throbs under the spray as he rinses off. Scowling, Marcus shakes his head to clear it, then grits his teeth and cranks the water around to cold before he can change his mind. 

He wonders if he’s making a mistake—and not just because the water is fucking freezing.


	2. Good Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling (satisfying?) conclusion!! Somehow this grew a fluffy baby/kid!fic section, but don’t worry, after that Marcus does finally gets the “happy ending” he deserves. 😉

Epic toddler cockblock aside, it’s actually turning out to be a pretty good morning. 

You get your littlest love up and get started on breakfast without telling her that Marcus is home. She doesn’t have a lot of patience for waiting yet, and besides, you want to let him surprise her. 

She’s perched on the counter beside you, helping stir the pancake batter when Marcus joins you, and her response is everything you hoped it would be.

“ _Daddy!_ ” she shrieks, wobbling alarmingly on the counter. You quickly take the mixing spoon from her and jump her down before she can fall. 

As soon as she hits the floor, she runs to Marcus as fast as her chubby little legs will carry her, calling out, “Daddy back! Da! Da!”

“Hello, babydoll,” Marcus says, swinging her up in his arms and holding her close, one big hand spread across her entire back. “Daddy missed you too.”

“Da! Da! Da!” she chants, legs swinging as she bounces in his hold, little arms wrapped tight around his neck. He presses his cheek to the side of her head, eyes closed and rocks with her.

You watch the two of them together and have to raise a hand to press against the ache in your chest, your eyes burning even as you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

Marcus looks so _good_ in the plain white shirt and black pajama pants he’s got on, his hair still damp from the shower. Then he opens his eyes to meet yours and the smile that blooms on his handsome face steals your breath. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re only wearing underwear and the dress shirt you snagged from his closet the night before. You wish you were naked in his arms instead.

“What a welcome! I may have to leave town more often.”

Your smile dims a little at that. Marcus is only teasing, you _know_ he’s only teasing, but it’s been a _long_ couple of weeks with him gone for work, and it hurts to think about him leaving again when you only just got him _back_. Something in your body language must give you away, because Marcus is quick to reassure you.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. “You know I’d rather be here with you, right?”

You nod halfheartedly, not looking at him.

“Hey,” he says again, cupping your cheek with the hand not supporting the baby. He tilts your face up, silently asking you to look at him. You raise your eyes to meet his, and he continues, “I— I’m sorry for joking around, sweetheart. Look, I know that it’s been a rough couple weeks. I just want you to know how much I appreciate the way you’ve kept things running at home.”

“I do know that.” And you do. He’s told you so every single time you’d talked to him the whole two weeks. “We did okay. I just _missed_ you,” you confess. “I missed you _a lot_.”

“I missed you too. That’s why I told the higher ups that I can’t be the lead on any more out of town cases. Not unless you two can come with me,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“Marcus, you can’t!”

“But I did!” He grins down at you.

“But you’re the head of the task force! What if they demote you?”

“They might.” His dark brown eyes burn into yours, suddenly dead serious, “But I don’t want to be away from the two of you. Family is more important— _you_ are more important to me than any position. Okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper, struggling to get the word out around the knot in your throat. You put your hand over his on your cheek, and turn your face into it, kissing his palm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Marcus is looking at you so tenderly that you have to close your eyes and fight back tears before you can speak again. “You’re the most important thing to me too. I love you _so much_.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He grins suddenly. “What do you say I show you how much?” he asks, then pulls you in, kissing you for long moments while the baby giggles and squirms between you.

Sadly, toddler patience only lasts so long. “Aminal ‘cakes? Make aminal cakes, daddy?” she demands, and you break away from Marcus to remind her to say please.

“Aminal ‘cakes _please_ , daddy?”

“Yeah. Of course I’ll make you animal pancakes, sweetheart.” Marcus gives you one last kiss, then releases you, moving to take over the pancake making. “What kind of pancake animals do you want, babydoll?”

You leave them to it, letting their discussion about the relative merits of doggy vs lion pancakes wash over you. You’re so happy you practically float through setting the table, thrilled to have your little family all together again.

Once that table is set, you take a minute to sneak away to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and hair quickly. When you return, breakfast is ready.

You and Marcus hold hands and share warm smiles across the table while you eat. It’s a little difficult one handed, but you manage, neither of you willing to let go.

With a bit of prompting from you, your daughter tells Marcus, between bites of pancake, about what you did while he was gone.

“Wow! The big slide at the park! Really, babydoll?” Marcus says, but he’s staring at your chest. Amused, you follow his gaze to discover that you’ve lost a drop of syrup into your cleavage.

 _Oh shoot!_ You use a finger to swipe the offending drip off the curve of your breast then pop it into your mouth. Glancing up, you find Marcus, coffee cup suspended half way to his lips, dazed eyes locked on your mouth.

 _Oh._ Heat streaks through you, and you make a bigger show of cleaning the syrup off than is strictly necessary, sucking and swirling your tongue around your finger. You enjoy the way his cheeks flush and his mouth drops open just the tiniest bit. _Oh the ideas that gives you._

When he finally tears his eyes away from your mouth and raises them to meet yours, your face feels as warm as the smile he gives you.

After breakfast, Marcus takes your sticky little one off for a much needed wipe down while you clear the table, but out of sight does not equal out of mind. You can’t stop thinking about him, and you find yourself washing and re-washing the same plate as memories of earlier that morning play in your mind’s eye. 

You think about the way Marcus’s eyes lingered on your mouth during breakfast and the way his cock jerked under your hand in bed earlier. You think about how much fun it was to tease him, and how much you’d like to do it again. Then you have to stop thinking about it, because the shaky, turned-on feeling in your stomach has ramped up so much you’re afraid you’ll drop a dish.

It’s a little ridiculous how far gone you are for this man.

Once the breakfast cleanup is done, you start in on the other small chores that have built up during the week. Usually you and Marcus split the household work evenly, but this morning you wave off his offers to help, wanting him to get reacquainted with the baby.

He does insist on helping you fold the big sheets for your bed, but they’re awkward to fold by yourself, so you don’t fight him on it.

The two of you shake out the sheets, then flip them up like a parachute above your daughter’s head, making her clap and giggle. Marcus, who is wrapped around that little girl’s finger, gives you puppy dog eyes until you do it again an extra time or five.

You do eventually call a stop so you can finish the rest of the laundry, which brings out identical pouty lips from both father and daughter. It’s only when tears threaten for real that Marcus drops the hangdog look and scoops the baby up, blowing raspberries on her belly and carrying her off to other distractions.

He is so good with her, and you swear you fall in love with him all over again watching them together.

Marcus seems to have infinite patience with her. Happy to read the same book five times in a row or help her fit the pieces of a puzzle together endlessly. He never gets cross or sharp with her, seemingly immune to the tantrums that sometimes result from her small frustrations.

You watch as he clumps around the living room pretending to be an elephant, then painstakingly corrects her hold on each crayon when they sit at the coffee table to draw one together. His large hands look even bigger wrapped around her tiny ones. They both seem equally pleased when you insist their masterpiece must be immediately preserved on the fridge.

It’s just so, so nice to have Marcus home.

Your attention never strays far from him, so you can’t help but notice that he’s more easily distracted than usual this morning. He’s still paying attention to the baby, of course, but you keep catching him staring off into space. You wonder if he’s tired or… _well, maybe…?_

When you go to pick up the next toy off the couch, you bend deliberately from the waist, and watch out of the corner of your eye as Marcus zones out again, staring at your behind. He startles when you giggle, then blushes, obviously flustered—you _like_ making him flustered—and pulls a throw pillow into his lap.

You raise an eyebrow at him. _Seriously? That’s got to be the oldest move in the book._

He’s still blushing but meets your gaze squarely and gives you cheeky smile and a shrug.

 _Fair enough._

He’s not the only one who’s distracted. 

Time and time and time again, you find your eyes drawn to his strong shoulders, his big hands, his sunshine smile. And It’s not just your eyes that are drawn to Marcus. You can’t seem to stop touching him, running a hand along his arm, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, or trailing your fingers across his back each time you pass near him. And he does the same with you.

As much as you love watching Marcus spend quality time with your daughter, you’re relieved when lunchtime finally rolls around. (You’re not too proud to admit that you’re counting down the minutes until her naptime. After all, you have _plans_.)

In the kitchen, you and Marcus move around each other, finding little ways to touch each other as you prepare a toddler-friendly lunch and he makes sandwiches for the two of you.

You sit together at the table and make halfhearted conversation about your plans for next week, but only the baby actually seems interested—she’s excited for your upcoming trip to the zoo. Your awareness is entirely taken up with the man across from you.

After the third time you catch yourself fiddling with the buttons holding your shirt closed while Marcus stares at your fingers, you give up on eating and start cleaning up instead. Your stomach is too full of longing for your husband to have room for food.

“Naptime!” you’re relieved to announce once lunch is finally over.

“You want me to…?” Marcus starts to offer.

“…sit down and relax while I put her down? Yes, I do.”

He gives you a look.

“No really, Marcus. We’ve got our naptime routine down, right love?” you ask the baby, scooping her up, feeling infinitely grateful when she doesn’t fight you on it. She must be worn out from the excitement of seeing her daddy again.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Marcus waits for you to nod, then turns to the baby. “Sleep well, babydoll.” He moves in close to accept cheek pats and smacking kisses with a fond smile, his big hand rubbing over her little back.

“Mama kiss Dada too!” she demands imperiously, and you won’t argue with that. You and Marcus share a smile as you lean in for a kiss. 

It’s meant to be a quick peck, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from licking gently at the seam of his lips. The way his whole body jolts at the first touch of your tongue has the banked fire in your stomach roaring back to life, but you pull back before things can get out of hand, grazing his lower lip with your teeth as you pull away.

You throw a little extra swing into your walk as you turn and head for the baby’s room. You can’t resist a quick glance over your shoulder, and you feel practically giddy when you catch him watching your ass.

You hum softly, and Marcus’s eyes snap to yours, a flush rising on his cheeks. No throw pillows now to block your view of his cock pressing against the front of his pajama pants. You wink at him and blow a quick kiss, then hurry on your way.

With a little luck, your littlest love will sleep well, and your biggest love, well… you intend to make sure he won’t know what hit him.

—

Marcus watches you disappear down the hall then sits heavily on the sofa, glancing ruefully down at his hard-on. _Really? Again?_

He doesn’t think he’s been this easily set off since high school. It’s not unusual for him to get hard over you, of course—you’re a hell of a gorgeous woman, and he’s head over heels. It’s not even like it’s unusual for him to be randomly half-hard over you a handful of times on the average day.

Today has _not_ been an average day. You might say it’s been a _hard_ morning— _pun definitely intended_. He chuckles and shakes his head at his own poor attempt at humor. 

In truth, he’s been worked up since his team broke the case yesterday, unable to keep from imagining all the ways you might welcome him back home.

It had taken longer than he expected to wrap everything up, and by the time he’d finally made it home he’d been disappointed but not surprised to find you asleep. By that point he’d been so exhausted he was just happy to crawl into bed and curl around you for the first time in a couple of weeks. 

But then… he hadn’t been exaggerating this morning when he’d told you about how you’d rubbed up against him. He spent what felt like hours fading in and out of consciousness, waking or dreaming about waking over and over to find one or both of you rubbing up against the other.

It had been the very best kind of torture.

True unconsciousness must have claimed him eventually, because he’d woken up the same way he’d fallen asleep, with you in his arms rubbing on his cock, not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

And then… _Jesus!_

The way you had asked to make him feel good before teasing him into complete incoherence? The way you had come so beautifully around his fingers and then his cock? The way he’d been only moments away from filling your sweet pussy when you were interrupted? Well, a cold shower could only do so much. Was it really any surprise that watching you walk around in his shirt all morning, touching and flirting had his cock standing at attention?

Maybe… maybe you’d be willing to continue where you left off this morning once the baby falls asleep. He doesn’t want to presume, but _maybe…?_ His gut clenches, cock jumping at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

 _Fuck._ Marcus closes his eye and blows out a breath, letting his head drop back against the couch. He feels mildly betrayed by his overeager body and tries to will himself to relax.

Yeah, and if he’s lucky you won’t laugh him out of bed when he blows his load two seconds in. He should have jerked off in the shower.

A soft touch on his thigh and a clacking noise alert Marcus to the fact that he’s no longer alone. He opens his eyes, to see you kneeling in front of him, reaching over to position the baby monitor on the end table.

You look as beautiful as ever, still in that fucking shirt, and his brain stalls out a little when he realizes he’s at the right angle to see straight down the front of it.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi.” You flash him a mischievous smile.

_Fuck, you’re gorgeous._

“Hey,” he says, abandoning any attempt to be subtle, “what would you say if I asked you to head back to bed with me and pick up where we left off this morning?” He smiles down at you, hoping that he’s coming off as charmingly direct rather than as desperate as he feels.

“I’d say no,” and okay, that’s okay. Marcus is disappointed, sure, but just because he’s a horny bastard doesn’t mean you have to oblige him. Marcus is so busy trying to convince himself that he barely registers it when you continue, “because I want to blow you right here on the couch.”

“That’s okay, baby, I’ll just…” — _wait_ — “Wait, _what!?_ ” Marcus exclaims.

“ _Shhh_!” you shush him quickly, and gesture at the baby monitor, “you have to keep quiet or she’ll wake up!” Your voice sounds annoyed, but you’re smiling at him like the cat that got the cream. Marcus struggles to keep up, pretty sure that there is not enough blood left in his brain for this.

“I… uh… what?” He tries again, more quietly.

“I want,” you reiterate, running your hands up his thighs, “to suck your cock.” You’re still smiling that familiar naughty smile. “You up for it?”

_Boy is he ever._

“I, um… you don’t have to, sweetheart?” Marcus says, stomach clenching at the idea, not entirely convinced that he isn’t asleep on the couch dreaming this.

“I know,” your pretty eyes burn into his, “but I _want_ to.”

Marcus’s gut clenches, his head wiped clean of everything except for how badly he wants you to look at him just like that, but with his cock in your mouth.

Long seconds tick by as Marcus tries to find the words to tell you that he wants your mouth on him so badly he’s afraid he might embarrass himself by coming before you even get there. 

Eventually your smile falters and falls off your face, and you drop your eyes, asking hesitantly, “Unless… unless you don’t want me to?”

 _Fuck._ Now he’s made you self conscious. That won’t do. There is absolutely no way he’s letting his inability to express himself properly make you doubt how much he wants you.

He reaches out to grab your hand, “I do want that, sweetheart. I do. You have no idea how much.”

“I might have _some_ idea.” Your mischievous smile is back, and you look pointedly at his cock which jumps under your gaze.

“Yeah, well…,” Marcus is still trying to come up with a reply when you run your knuckles across the front of his pants, and his breath hitches, mind going blank.

His cock twitches, pressing up against your hand, and he takes in your wide smile as you run your finger over him again. _Fuck._ You’re so goddamn _hot_.

You tilt your head contemplatively, then tug on the leg of his pants. “Off, please.”

Marcus wastes no time in lifting his hips and pushing the pajama pants down his thighs, lifting his feet so you can slide them the rest of the way off.

He holds his breath as you sit back on your heels and just look at him for a moment, his heartrate ramping up as he watches you watch him with a faintly predatory look on your beautiful face.

_Jesus, you look so good._

You lean forward again, running your hands up his thighs, and he can’t help the way his cock jumps, lifting towards you like it’s trying to get closer to your mouth.

You giggle. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“I’m always happy to see you, sweetheart,” he replies, and he likes the way your smile turns warm and slightly besotted.

Then your hand wraps around his cock, and Marcus has to remind himself to breath. You stroke tentatively a few times, humming and smiling as his cock strains in your grip.

 _Oh god._ You’re going to kill him, _…but what a way to go._

You lean forward and lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock, and Marcus damn near shoots up off the couch, unable to control the hitch of his hips.

“You like that, baby?” you tease, peeking at him from under your lashes. Then you do it again. And again, your beautiful eyes burning up into his.

_Fuuuuuuck._

“Fuck, _yes._ Feels so good. L-love your mouth, sweetheart. Love you. But _Jesus_ , your fucking _mouth_ ,” Marcus pants out, struggling for coherence. “Careful please, baby, or this isn’t gonna last very long.”

“I’ll be careful,” you reassure him, then paint another hot stripe up his cock with your tongue. The feel of it, combined with the echo of your words from this morning punches a loud, involuntary groan from Marcus’s throat.

You both freeze as the noise echoes in the relative silence and quickly look over to check the monitor. All’s quiet, _thank god._ You narrow your eyes at him warningly.

Marcus slaps both hands over his mouth in exaggerated motion, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s mostly fooling around, but he’s also determined not to make any more noise. Man, he loves that little girl to pieces, but if she wakes up and interrupts again, he’s going to kill someone—probably himself.

This time when you run your tongue up his cock, you take the head of it into your mouth. Pleasure shoots though him, and Marcus has to fist his hands at his sides to stop himself from thrusting up into your wet heat.

You hold the head of his cock there in your mouth for a moment, then wrap a hand around the base of his shaft, before pulling off and licking gently.

“Does it feel good?”

He hums back an affirmative.

You lick and suck at the head of his cock, working the shaft lightly with your hand. It feels so fucking good that it’s hard to keep still, and when you start to let him slide further into your mouth, he loses the battle with his instincts, unable to control the involuntary thrust of his hips.

 _Shit._ “Sorry, sweetheart. Feels so good. ’S hard to keep still.”

You hum around his cock in response, and Marcus nearly bites through his tongue as the vibrations shiver through him. You scoot forward, lifting your elbows and settling your arms over his thighs so that you’re pressing his hips down into the couch, your free hand tucked around his waist.

The move brings your breasts into contact with the inside of his thighs, your cleavage on full display through the open neck of his shirt and— _Fuck_ —Marcus has to close his eyes against the image of you, his cock in your mouth, your tits trapped between his legs.

It doesn’t help much. Cutting off his sight just seems to make everything else he’s feeling more intense. The wet heat of your mouth, the slow torturous drag of your tongue, and the material of your shirt moving against his balls is almost enough to send him over the edge. He’s thrusting up again, can’t help it, and he’s glad for the pressure of your arms across his thigh, so that he doesn’t have to worry about choking you with his cock.

“ _Fuuuuck._ Feels so good, sweetheart,” Marcus groans, and you start to bob your head faster, and you do something with your hand that makes it feels like you’re moving over his whole cock all at once.

_Oh Jesus. Oh Fuck._

He fucking loves having your mouth on him, but he’s so oversensitive after all the teasing this morning that he can hardly stand it. Marcus fists his hands at his side, digging his nails into his palms, and drags in huge gulps of air as your hot mouth moves over him. He needs to ~~_get a fucking grip_~~ find a distraction or this is going to be over really, _really_ soon. 

You shift, and he can feel your breasts push against his thighs. _Aha!_ Is there any better distraction than losing himself in your body while making you feel good?

He reaches down and runs a finger over your nipples where they’re trapped against his inner thigh, and you gasp around his cock, then pull off to moan softly when he continues to play with your breasts. All too soon you pull back and he watches in awe as you quickly unbutton a few more buttons and pull at the neckline of his shirt, baring your breast to him. _Fucking gorgeous._

When you lean back in, you press in close between his spread thighs, your hands on either side of your tits, pressing them tightly against his cock. It feels amazing, and Marcus damn near loses his mind when lower your mouth to lap the head of his cock.

Marcus struggles to keep his hips still as you slide your breasts against him, struggles to keep from thrusting up into your hot, wet mouth. He can’t see your eyes anymore when you’re like this, but the sight of his cock nestled between your tits, the tip disappearing between your slick lips is just as deadly.

You pull off just long enough to say, “you can fuck me like this, if you want.”

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

Then you duck back down to kiss and lick at the head of his cock.

“ _God_. You’re _killing_ me, sweetheart,” he manages to groan.

It feels so good that Marcus’s hips jerk up despite himself. Without your arms across his thighs, the motion makes his cock slide between your breasts and drives him into the wet heat of your mouth. He does it again without conscious thought. Then again, rubbing his cock against you with fast involuntary thrusts.

Heat rises through him, and he has to tense every muscle in his body to stop himself from just fucking your tits hard and fast until he comes in your mouth.

Instead he makes himself stop. Makes himself go slow, whole body jerking and clenching in protest as he fights his instincts. Even at this slower pace, the feeling of your breasts dragging against his cock threatens to send him over the edge. He forces his hips to still, but you’re still moving, and the wet heat of your mouth slides torturous over him.

“Wait—,” Marcus spits out desperately. “Sto— _ah_!”

Thankfully you do stop, raising a dubious eyebrow at him and pausing just long enough for him to gather the tattered remnants of his self control.

After a moment you start to pull off slowly, without releasing suction, and Marcus swears his eyes roll back in his head. After the heat of mouth, the cool air against his overheated cock is its own kind of torture.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself an awful lot for someone who’s asking me to stop,” you say, then you duck back down to hold the head of his cock in your mouth.

“It’s- _ugh_ —it’s….” He struggles to find the words to explain, to get them out through the blinding pleasure. “You’re making it hard to concentrate, sweetheart.”

You pull off of him achingly slowly, and Marcus’s hips come up off the couch involuntarily chasing your mouth.

“Sorry,” you lift your head, not looking sorry at all, and squeeze your breasts against his cock while you look up at him expectantly, “you were saying…?”

He’s rocking his hips slowly, dragging his cock between your tits, can’t seem to make himself stop.

“Jesus, baby, you feel _so good_. Mouth so fucking hot. And I’ve been worked up since last night.”

You grin at him, tongue flicking out to lap at the head of his cock again, and Marcus groans. Tries to gather his rapidly failing wits.

“There’s no way. Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he pants out, “‘s too good, baby. You’re gonna— _ah_ — gonna make me—’

“You don’t want to come?” you ask between little licks.

“Not—yet.” He grits out, but then he has to bite down on an involuntary noise of denial when you release his cock completely and move away.

You sit back on your heels, and Marcus feels hot and shaky and oddly bereft as he tries to rein in the way his body twitches and trembles under your gaze. You look so fucking good, pretty mouth slightly open, dark and _shiny_ from his cock, his shirt open over your gorgeous tits. You’re the best fucking thing he’s seen in weeks, and he aches to touch you.

“You coming up here with me now, sweetheart?” he asks, hopefully.

“Not yet,” you purr, and Marcus’s can’t tell if it’s disappointment or excitement that makes his stomach clench. “I have an idea,” you continue, reaching for his cock.

Marcus braces himself, half afraid he’ll come as soon as you touch him.

Instead of wrapping your hand around him like he expects, your fingers rub lightly over his balls before moving gently around the base of his cock. Marcus leans forward and peers down at himself, trying to figure out what you’re doing.

You have a couple of fingers wrapped around his cock and balls from underneath, fingertips not quite meeting your thumb on the top side of his shaft. It feels a little weird.

“I read about this,” you tell him. You must have noticed him looking. “It should help you hold off a while…. _if_ I’m doing it right.”

You’re using your hand as an impromptu cock ring, Marcus realizes, feeling embarrassed and grateful all at once.

“I’m not hurting you am I?”

Marcus shakes his head, not trusting his voice.

“Then let’s see….” you lower your head again, and he’s engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth. _God_.

You bob your head a few times and he presses him hips into the couch to avoid thrusting up and gagging you. It still feels good, it feels _amazing_ , but the threat of impending orgasm has backed off somewhat.

You pull off to ask, “Is it helping?”

He nods, feeling oddly shy.

“Good,” you smirk up at him. “I wasn’t ready to be done with you quite yet.” 

_Christ, you’re amazing._

You take him in your mouth again, then pull back a little. Sliding your lips up and down his shaft, taking him deeper with each stroke. Then you begin to angle your head so that his cock slides over your tongue on each pass, and he’s immensely grateful for your fingers around the base of him because without them he would already be coming down your throat.

You continue to slide down his cock until he can feel the back of your throat pressing against the head. You aren’t quite able to take all of him like this, but Marcus doesn’t care because it feels _so goddamn good_.

Just when Marcus thinks it couldn’t possibly feel any better, you start to tilt your head— _Fuck! He’d forgotten about this move_ —and his breath punches out of him in a low moan at the feeling of his cock rubbing against the back of your throat.

You pull off slowly, and he feels you take another breath before you slide back down and do it again. And again. And. Again.

Marcus is lost in a haze of pleasure, panting, hands digging into his thighs with the effort it takes not to thrust up and choke you. All too soon, he feels heat creeping up his spine, the point of no return looming close despite your fingers still around the base of his cock.

“Wai— _ugh_ ” he starts the next time you pull back, but he’s too slow, and you’re already moving again. He shudders and shakes through the slick slide of your mouth, desperately hanging onto his control by the skin of his teeth, waiting until you pull off again, and then….

“Wait!”

You lean back, but keep stroking his cock lightly with your hand, “Yes?”

“I’m gonna— If you— _Ngh_.” Marcus can’t seem to find the words. “I want… I want…”

“What do you want, Marcus?” you ask, tongue darting out to lick over your already shiny lips. “Do you want to fuck my mouth and come down my throat?”

Marcus can’t answer. Can only gasp and pant in response, writhing under the torturous pleasure of your hand on him, lost to the picture your words are painting in his head.

“Do you want to come on my tits?”

 _God._ Marcus can’t control the involuntary hitch of his hips bucking up into your touch, his stomach and thigh muscles jumping as he tries to dodge the sparks skittering up and down his spine.

“On my face?”

 _Oh. Fuck._ Marcus curls forward, body hunching over your hand, suddenly positive that he’s going to come right the fuck now, without any say in the matter. But then, just before he goes over the edge…

You. Let. Go.

Marcus hears himself make a low wordless sound. He feels every muscle in his body lock up, back arching, legs jerking, hands gripping the couch as he fights not to come. 

Several long, uncertain moments later, Marcus feels in control enough to look up and barely manages to cling to his composure when he finds you staring back at him, mouth open, one hand tucked under the bottom edge of your shirt, moving quickly between your legs.

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

“That was… so fucking sexy, babe,” you pant, and he can’t really see what you’re doing, just the movement of your wrist, but that’s enough— _Fuck_ —more than enough.

Marcus needs to have you right the fuck now, or he’s going to _lose his goddamn mind._

Thankfully you seem to be on the same page, panting out, “Where d’you want to come? Tell me— please, _Marcus_. Wanna make you come.”

“In you. _God, please._ ‘S gonna be over in about two seconds, baby, but I wanna fill you up,” Marcus babbles, feeling so thankful to be able to get the words out that he could cry. “Need to come in your sweet cunt. In your arms. _Please,_ sweetheart.”

The look in your eyes goes hot and liquid, and you nod.

Marcus slumps back against the couch in relief, feeling hot and shaky and vaguely lightheaded. He draws in deep ragged breaths and strives for some small shed of self control as he watches you rise to your feet, hands going to undo the last few buttons holding his shirt closed.

After a moment, you make a face and pause in your unbuttoning to shake out your feet, and Marcus can’t help but huff out a laugh.

_God, he loves you._

You finally finish untangling yourself from your clothes, standing naked before him in all your glory, and Marcus feels laid bare, wants to prostrate himself at your feet. His cock is throbbing in time with the beat of his heart, and he has never been more aware that both are irrevocably yours. He wishes he could find the words to tell you how thoroughly everything he is belongs to you, but Marcus is no poet. He’s only ever just a man, trying desperately to be good enough to deserve you.

He reaches for you. “C’mere, sweetheart. _Please._ ”

And you do. You finally do.

You straddle him on the couch, sitting on his knees. Marcus palms your breasts reverently, and your soft moan is music to his ears.

You hitch your hips forward, reaching for him. The first brush of your hand has Marcus breathless and cursing, and he grabs your wrist before that simple touch can push him over the edge.

“‘M sorry, baby. I—” He shrugs helplessly.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, “I’ve got you, love.”

You rise up on your knees, ever so delicately positioning his cock below you, and then lower yourself down achingly slow. The feel of your hot cunt enveloping him has Marcus curling forward into your body, hands clawing at the air, grasping at the couch, wrapping around your back, trying to find something to anchor him.

He feels overwrought, barely balanced on the knife’s edge of his wavering control, _seconds_ away from coming, and he buries his face in the curve of your neck, trying just to breathe.

Your hands pet though his hair for a moment, then he feels you shift and slide a hand down between your stomachs.

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t need long,” you tell him like it’s a confession, and his stomach and cock both jump when he feels your hand start to move.

You keep your hips still on his, but it doesn’t matter. He can feel your muscles tense, your cunt pulse and squeeze around his cock, and it’s all over for him. 

His breath seizes in his lungs, and he can’t help but grab your hips pulling you down hard onto him as he bucks up into your hot cunt. The heat he’s been barely keeping at bay floods his body, pleasure spiking through him. Over the roaring in his ears, he just barely hears you cry out his name, but there’s no way he can miss your tight pussy clamping down around his jerking cock, milking the come from him.

The two of you writhe and throb together for long moments before the agonizing pleasure finally releases him and he slumps against your shoulder.

Your body is still twitching and squeezing around him in the aftermath. He runs a hand down your back and hugs you to him, pulling you with him as he leans back against the couch.

After a few minutes of silence, Marcus reaches over to check the monitor.

“Asleep,” he tells you. “Guess we weren’t too loud.” 

“D’you still want to head back to bed? Maybe we can squeeze in a nap of our own.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe in a minute,” Marcus replies, pressing you close. 

_It’s good to be home._


End file.
